


Which of Them is First

by SparklyGlitterDeath



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety, Betrayal, Dark, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Ghosts, Mind Manipulation, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-03-26 12:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13857912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparklyGlitterDeath/pseuds/SparklyGlitterDeath
Summary: The mysterious magician, Tom.The homeless boy, Harry, who stumbles into his home.Their meeting is a dream come true for the both of them.





	1. What Does it Matter Where People Go?

**Author's Note:**

> “All the best and all the worst  
> Comes from which of them is first” 
> 
> -Waiting at the Window by A. A. Milne

“What have we here?” said a darkly amused voice.

Harry groaned, rolling over and burying his face in a pillow. He took a deep, long breath and frowned. The pillow smelled moldy. A moment later he sat up, coughing wildly. Gasping, he thumped his chest, hard, and didn’t move until his breathing had calmed. 

Where was he? Why were the sheets so musty? Aunt Petunia was many things, but a slob was not one of them. This was highly unusual.

With a start, Harry remembered that he no longer lived with Aunt Petunia. He hadn’t for months. Instead, he had been sleeping on the streets, looking for a job. Then it had started raining, and then...

His stomach sank as he recalled someone speaking. The house hadn’t been empty, then? Harry drug his eyes unwillingly towards the doorway where a young man with dark brown hair and unmoving gray eyes lounged, smirking. Although he had half expected it, the realization that this man had indeed watched him struggle through a coughing fit was still startling.

Harry yelped, falling over out of the bed and landing with a loud thump on the floor. He lay there, frozen, for a while, numbly processing his situation. In the next instant he shot to his feet, stammering out apologies in a raspy voice. What had he done? He could be arrested for this- what had he been thinking?

“I- I’m so sorry- if I had had any idea someone was living here- I would never have-” Harry stared worriedly at the man in front of him, who now was inspecting him with a darkly thoughtful look on his face. He raised a delicate eyebrow as Harry stammered, but made no move to say anything. Confused at the silence, Harry desperately searched for something to say. “I- I’ll leave right away,” he offered weakly.

The man hummed, straightening up. His eyes sharpened as he seemed to come to a decision. Consideringly, he spoke, staring intently at Harry as he did.

“No, no, it’s no problem at all. I own this house.” 

Harry sighed in relief. A kind homeowner really was a stroke of luck. Even so… He frowned. It was really odd. He could have sworn this house was uninhabited. Anyone would have thought it was abandoned, really- a large, dark mansion on top of a hill in the middle of a forest? That was campfire story material.

Harry saw the man’s lips move, but only caught the tail end of his sentence. “...can see me.”

He lent forward, anxious. “I’m sorry, what?”

The man flashed him a charming smile. “Never mind. Might I ask what you are doing here?”

Harry blushed. Right. Although this man seemed nice, the fact remained that Harry was a trespasser. 

“Y-yes, of course. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t find a place to stay last night, and it was raining…” 

He paused, but the man kept his eyes locked on him, motioning for Harry to continue. He seemed strangely fascinated by his every word. Not just what he was saying, either- it was as if the mere fact he was speaking was entrancing.

 

“W-well, I swear I didn’t mean any harm, I thought this place was empty.” Harry wavered, not sure what to say. “Ah- my name’s Harry Potter. I’m eighteen.” He stuck out a hand.

The other man smirked, although he wasn’t quite sure why. A second went by where the man only stared at his hand, making no move to grasp it. Worried, Harry gnawed his lip, not sure what he had done wrong. In the next moment, though, he reached out and grasped Harry’s hand smoothly, giving him a firm handshake. 

“A pleasure. My name is Tom Riddle.” Tom’s grip tightened and Harry blinked in confusion. Had he done something else wrong? “...And while this isn’t unpleasant, it might be best if you put some clothes on.” His eyes swept Harry’s body, which he belatedly realized was only clad in underwear.

Harry released Tom’s hand like it was a red-hot stovetop. Of all the things to do! His clothes had been wet so he had stripped down… Now he almost wished he had toughed it out, if only to avoid this moment.

“Of course! I’m so sorry!”

His face so red it was tingling, Harry nearly tripped over himself hurrying to find his clothes. He wrinkled his nose as he felt his shirt, still damp and now musty. His pants and jacket were in a similar state. He wasn’t sure he could even force these on. Still, it wasn’t like he had a choice. 

A polite cough sounded from the doorway and Harry turned. “I’ll lend you clothes until yours dry. It wouldn’t do for you to catch a cold.” 

He opened his mouth, ready to protest, but closed it again sheepishly. Although he wanted to leave quickly, wearing clammy clothing didn’t sound enjoyable. 

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” Tom Riddle really was kind.

Tom smiled sharply and beckoned for him to follow. They walked in silence through the house, and Harry glanced around curiously. Each room they passed through was decorated lavishly, and the dark wooden stairs they climbed up had intricate carvings etched into them. Everything was beautiful, even if a thick layer of dust coated everything. Shelves full of thick books lined most of the walls, and the title alone of every book was too complicated for Harry to understand. 

Harry glanced admiringly at Tom. He must be rather smart, then. That must be why then house was so dirty. Geniuses didn’t have time to clean. Guilt pooled up in his stomach. Tom didn’t have time to deal with a strange boy in his house either. Harry cringed, unsure of how he could repay the young man.

“Thank you again, Tom. It’s really kind of you to do this,” he ventured.

Tom waved a hand dismissively. “No, not at all. Really, you’re the one helping me.”

Harry wrinkled his brow. “How-”

“Ah,” Tom interrupted, “Here we are.” He fluidly turned to face Harry, a feverish gleam in his eyes. Harry smiled nervously and inspected the door in front of them. 

His eyes widened. “Wow,” he breathed. It was easily the most stunning thing he had seen in the house yet, swirling with patterns Harry felt he could get lost in if he looked at them for too long. Unicorns pranced around the borders of a wooden forest eerily similar to the one outside. Centaurs and trolls and giants were all locked in battle, carved into an endless war, and there, in the middle-

“Well,” Tom said, and Harry hurriedly focused on him. “Shall we?” 

Harry nodded shakily, still awed by the door. Tom chuckled, then, with a gentle push, he swung it open and stepped inside, not looking back.


	2. Whisper who Dares

Harry smiled awkwardly at Tom around a mouthful of pancakes. He was being a bother, wasn’t he? First the clothes, now breakfast… He felt like a guest, not an intruder. 

Across from him, Tom held a cup of coffee, staring sharply back at him. Harry nervously looked back down at his plate. He wished he could do something in return for Tom’s kindness, but Tom was a little unapproachable.

Still, he should make an effort.

Harry set down his fork, wincing as it scraped across the plate, and finished swallowing as fast as he could, his host watching him expectantly.

“Thank you for letting me borrow these clothes. They look expensive,” he said, trying not to cough as a bit of pancake went down the wrong way. The clothes really were nice- airy and soft against his skin, if a bit musty. The biggest problem was that Tom was taller than him, so the clothes hung off of him. 

Tom smirked. “No, not at all. I haven’t worn them in… years. You might as well keep them.”

“I couldn’t! You’ve already been so nice to me.” 

“Harry, I insist.” His words were polite, but firm, and his eyes didn’t move from Harry’s face. An air of disquiet filled the room. Somehow, Harry felt that arguing with Tom would be a very bad decision to make. Instead, he nodded and focused back on his food. He wasn’t really in a position to refuse Tom’s kindness.

Silence fell. The only thing he could hear was himself chewing. Should he say something? What was a safe topic to discuss?

He cleared his throat. “Why are you out here all alone? Do you have any family?” Tom’s face froze briefly and Harry cringed. He didn’t like talking about his family, why had he assumed Tom would feel differently? “Sor-” He began, but Tom waved him off.

 

“Ah… No, no family. This is simply an excellent place to focus on my research.” Harry’s shoulders loosened. He was fine. And here was the perfect new topic! People loved to talk about themselves, so he could listen to Tom talk about his job and not have to say a word. 

He leant forward eagerly, not noticing how his sleeve drug through the syrup. “Oh? What do you research?” 

Tom glanced cooly across the table at him. “It’s a fairly complicated topic. I’m afraid you wouldn’t understand it.”

It was Harry’s turn to freeze. Had he said the wrong thing after all? “O-oh. Alright.” The room was quiet again. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. What now? 

Harry stuck as much pancake into his mouth as he could. Eating was always a good option. 

“Harry.” 

He coughed, spewing bits of chewed up food everywhere. “Y-yes?” Harry said, hastily wiping down the table, his face red.

Tom smiled gently. “Are you having problems at home? You’re very young to be out on your own.”

Well, he deserved this. Harry cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m already eighteen. My parents are dead, so I was living with my relatives, but- I didn’t want to bother them any longer than I had to.” He squirmed under Tom’s scrutinizing gaze, but stubbornly refused to elaborate. Maybe it was rude to not give any more information to someone who had been so kind to him, but… 

“Well then,” Tom smoothly began, “Would you like to work here?” Harry’s head snapped up. “I’m a busy man. Having someone around to clean and cook would be helpful.”

 

Harry’s face brightened. “Really? I’m good at cleaning and cooking. But…” He bit his lip. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be any more of a bother than I am already.”

Tom chuckled. “I was the one that asked, wasn’t I? I want you to do it.” His eyes sharpened and focused on Harry. “You’re interesting. Unique.”

Harry shivered. “Well, then I’d love to.”

“It’s a deal.”

For a moment, Tom’s form wavered blinking in and out of focus so quickly Harry’s stomach lurched. An unusual sense of foreboding settled into him, and he was seized with a sudden urge to leave this house and never stop running.  
Tom, perfectly ordinary and solid, smiled curiously, if a little darkly at him, and Harry returned to his senses. This was the best opportunity he had found all summer. And…

Tom had said he was interesting.

Someone was fascinated by him.

A horrible hope began to rise up in him, swallowing his fears in a rush of happiness. 

“Yes,” he breathed, his eyes locked so tightly on the mysterious man across from him he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to look away. “It’s a deal.”


End file.
